


Needing

by Impala_Cherry_Trickster



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Freya (Merlin), Canon Temporary Character Death, Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Everyone Loves Merlin (Merlin), F/M, Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin) Lives, M/M, Magic Revealed, Mutual Pining, Redeemed Morgana (Merlin), Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27022966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Cherry_Trickster/pseuds/Impala_Cherry_Trickster
Summary: Following Lancelot's death, Merlin struggles to keep up the act in Camelot. Luckily, the Gods seem to answer his prayer.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Comments: 39
Kudos: 412





	1. Chapter 1

Merlin had never been more grateful for Arthur’s chores. He took them all with a twisted smile, with a small part of gratitude for the King being so oblivious. It wasn’t enough to stem the guilt, to stop the crushing sense of hopelessness when he was alone, and so he continued to pile tasks on. He took over Gwen’s laundry, would walk the hunting dogs daily. Arthur’s armour would shine before he asked, the Knights’ boots would all be clean and ready for training in the morning.

His day started an hour before sunrise, and he didn’t finish until well after the last patrol had left. The days passed by in the same monotone routine, something so strange considering all that Merlin had lost.

Camelot didn’t fall. The Dorocha had left a gaping hole in the population, but it wasn’t enough for them to fail. In fact, the community bonded over the experience, with tales of the brave Knights of Camelot spreading.

Lancelot was mourned, by everybody, but none more so than Merlin. The Warlock felt the loss as if he had been told he had only days to live, like he was drowning but could not quite escape. The Knights of the Round Table, the ones that had been on the fateful mission, quickly learned that Merlin didn’t want to talk about Lancelot. In fact, he wanted them to stop bringing him up, to leave the topic alone.

Arthur, as usual, was oblivious to Merlin’s pain. The manservant had to pretend that he didn’t flinch whenever the Knight mentioned his name, or when Arthur would turn to ask Lancelot for his advice, only to remember what had happened. Outside of the King’s mourning, Merlin did not act sad. His place was at Arthur’s side, pretending he was perfectly happy, even if his heart felt like it was breaking apart.

It was Lancelot’s death that taught Merlin he would lose everyone he had ever cared for, if he didn’t change Destiny.

Morgana was harder to convince, but his pain was genuine, and they could bond over that. It wasn’t trust, in fact, it might have been the opposite. They watched each other curiously, neither a threat nor an ally. Merlin said nothing when King Lot’s kingdom continued to fall apart, and Morgana did not speak when Arthur continued to blindly pursue her. If the occasional titbit of information would be passed across, both pretended that they had no idea how it happened.

Agravaine was a delicious problem, one that helped Merlin forget that he had lost everything. Morgana teased and toyed with Merlin, dangling a threat in front and watching as he chased after it, just as he did the same whenever Morgana’s pain of losing her sister overwhelmed her.

Not even Morgana could have prepared for the Lamia, and the fallout from her presence. Never before had Merlin missed Lancelot more, the ache in his chest was quite unlike any other time, and the Warlock could not even begin to pretend that he wasn’t heartbroken.

The Knights tried to apologise. Each came up to him individually, admitted that they did not quite remember what happened, but they recalled that they might have said some hurtful things. Gwaine tried to cheer him up with tavern adventures, Elyan with walks through the market, and Percival with sweet treats he stole from the kitchen. Even Sir Leon would accompany him to the library, and encourage him to read, like it would make up for what had happened.

It had to be bad, if Arthur had noticed. The King had been questioning Merlin for days on the Lamia’s influence over the Knights, but Merlin refused to tell the tale. Guinevere, torn between her friendship with Merlin, and her budding romance with the King of Camelot, wisely avoided the topic as well.

Merlin wondered what Lancelot would have done, were he here now. Would he have said the same hurtful things? No, Merlin couldn’t imagine it, even though he knew it was not the Knights fault.

These thoughts consumed him, and as Merlin tried to haul the latest load of laundry towards the washroom, he wondered why exactly he was still trying so hard to be the perfect servant.

If he could convince Morgana that Arthur was the Once and Future King, then he didn’t have a Destiny to complete. He could run, before anymore people died by his hand, and maybe then he would find peace.

The laundry basket dropped, spilling out over the floor and Merlin watched in confusion as a red spot appeared on one of Arthur’s white shirts. Another followed quickly, and the Warlock rose a hand to his nose, startled when it came back red.

It wasn’t the first nosebleed. It wasn’t the first time Merlin didn’t remember how he got from standing up, to lying on a cold floor with no recollection of the fall. It wasn’t the first time that Merlin noted his ribs were beginning to show, or that his head spun if he stood up too quickly.

Merlin decided that the moment Lancelot stepped through the Veil, he wasn’t the only one that died.

**

He’d looked back, and he remembered seeing Merlin’s startled look, the guilt already rising up to crush the Warlock. The next thing that Lancelot du Lac recalled was the fact that he was slightly damp, and his fingers were buried into sand.

The Knight groaned, tensing up each muscle as he tried to remembered why exactly he was on the floor, with a fox-like creature nudging at his shirt. The Knight waved blindly, watched the animal scamper away towards the treeline, while he rolled over onto his stomach and drew his knees up under him.

He wasn’t wearing his usual attire, but a plain white shirt and breeches.

‘Lancelot du Lac.’ The voice was soft, silky and smooth yet oddly inviting, and the man turned to find a woman standing in the body of water in front.

Magic.

That brought Merlin to the forefront of his mind, an instant concern for the Warlock overpowering the worry about his state of undress.

‘Who are you?’ He demanded, slightly confused when his voice was nothing more than a raspy whisper.

‘I am the Lady of the Lake, although you may call me Freya.’ It seemed his mind was slightly slower than usual, for the connection took far too long to click into place. The dark hair, the compassionate eyes, Merlin had painted a beautiful picture of the once-Druid in front of him.

‘You are Merlin’s… friend.’ The term did not fit into place, not with what he knew of the two of them, and the Lady smiled softly.

‘I owe Emrys a great debt, Sir Lancelot.’ He ran a hand through his hair, surprised when he felt just how damp it was.

Had he come from the Lake?

That thought led to the eventual realisation that he had indeed seen Merlin in his last thoughts, because he had stepped through the Veil. A sacrifice that Merlin had been going to make, but how could he ever let the man take such a step?

‘I stepped through the Veil.’ Which led to the observation that this much be his Heaven, his version of Avalon.

‘You did. Balance was restored, but the Gods are no longer pleased with your sacrifice.’ Never had someone so casually mentioned that of which he didn’t understand, the Gods of the Old Religion. Until Merlin, he hadn't really known what to believe.

‘I died to save Camelot. To save Merlin.’ Lancelot argued quickly, but the woman did not take offence.

‘It appears that Emrys cannot continue his Destiny without you, Sir Lancelot. The Gods brought you back with that in mind.’ He spent so long thinking on the fact that Merlin was apparently failing, that the last sentence took a lot longer to come to the forefront of his mind. When it did, however, the Knight startled.

‘Back? To life?’

‘Indeed, Sir Knight, on one condition.’ He ran his hands along his face, down to his heart, to feel the steady beat of it under his fingertips.

‘I serve nobody but Merlin and Arthur.’ Lancelot cut in, already working out how best to reach his friend.

Freya laughed, her head tipped back slightly and damp hair curling in a way that could not be natural.

‘Then it is a good thing that the condition is to guide Emrys.’ 


	2. A Lancelot in Camelot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me, laughing at the chapter title for like ten minutes

Arthur knew something was wrong with Merlin. It wasn’t obvious, but the King had spent enough time with his manservant to realise that something had changed. To begin with, he thought it was the Dorocha. Something had happened with his Knights, they were newly awkward around the same manservant that they’d adopted as a little brother.

Guinevere refused to tell Arthur what had happened, save for some half-hearted truths about Merlin being insulted. Merlin had suffered far worse than the Knights calling him names, Arthur concluded, which meant it couldn’t just be that.

He was musing over these things when Sir Leon opened the door, face red and eyes wide, without knocking.

‘You’re beginning to adopt Merlin’s policy of not knocking, Sir Leon.’ Arthur drawled, before he realised that Leon looked like he’d seen a ghost. The King rose up from his chair, moving swiftly to his Knight’s side, placing what he hoped was a calming hand on the man’s shoulder.

‘Leon?’

‘Come, quickly.’ He didn’t argue about the lack of title, followed Leon as they basically jogged through the Castle. They weren’t going to the Dungeons, like Arthur presumed, or the Council room. Instead, they made it to the steps of the Castle. His Knights were all gathered around a man dressed in rather simple clothes, and Arthur was about to question the hurry, when the man turned.

‘Holy…’

‘We thought the same thing, Princess.’

Lancelot’s smile was hesitant, his gaze flicking past Arthur like he expected someone else to be there, before it returned.

‘Sire.’ Arthur pulled his Knight in for a hug, clapped his hand onto his back as he laughed in disbelief. Lancelot, although clearly surprised, returned the hug the moment it happened.

‘How… you, how are you here?’ Arthur studied him, looking for any signs that he was injured, but found none.

‘It’s a long tale, Sire, I… how’s Camelot?’ The question was an odd one, especially combined with the fact Lancelot was back searching the people that were gathering. Gaius had emerged, looking shocked as he stared at the Knight.

Was Lancelot searching for Guinevere?

‘Things could have been going better, but now that you’re here, mate, I think…’ Gwaine was cut off mid-speech, because a startled choking sound rang out over the cobbles.

Lancelot wasn’t searching for Guinevere, Arthur realised.

He was searching for Merlin.

**

His Magic wasn’t responding like usual. Merlin blamed it on the lack of sleep, or maybe the lack of food, or maybe the lack of inspiration. Even Gwaine had been tip-toeing around him at the moment, but that was probably a good thing. If Gwaine stayed away, he couldn’t be killed by being associated with Merlin.

After finishing his chores during the night, Merlin woke Arthur and then decided to go on a walk. It took him into the forest, through the trees that he could usually feel. It was the joy of being connected to the earth, but it was unusually quiet during his walk.

The thing was, Merlin couldn’t keep doing this. It felt like he was cracking, breaking down under the stress that just kept piling up. There was nothing he could to change Destiny, no matter how hard he tried. Morgana would always hate him because of what he had done, Arthur would never view Magic in a positive light. The Knights would die, just because Merlin couldn’t save them.

It wasn’t until almost midday that Merlin started heading back to Camelot, deciding he should probably pick up some of the tasks. His stomach chose that moment to grumble, his head aching as he dragged himself back into Camelot.

He would have gone around the back, probably taken the servants’ entrance, had he not spotted the crowd of Knights in the courtyard. Arthur was hugging someone, and that alone had his Magic sparking back to life.

Strange, the shape was almost familiar. Dark hair, well-muscled in the way a swordsman might be, with…

It was the eyes, in the end, that finally convinced the rest of his body to react. Merlin couldn’t stop the gasp even if he wanted to, felt a strange weight lifting as he recognised the man in front.

‘Lancelot.’ He hadn't said that name in such a long time, never with such… happiness. Joy. Hope.

‘Merlin.’ Repeated, with an awe that he’d missed for so long. Merlin went running, didn’t care that half of Camelot watched as he was embraced by his best friend.

Lancelot smelt of pine and leather oil, of a hint of the Lake that he visited to remember Freya. It was a familiar hug, arms that wrapped around him while he tucked his head under Lancelot’s chin.

It stretched for far longer than it should have done, and even when they pulled away, Merlin refused to relinquish a hold on him. His Magic was trying to assure him this was real, that Lancelot was safe and breathing, but Merlin still remembered the last look he got from his friend.

So, naturally his next instinct was to hit him. It was only a slap to his chest, then a shove, a burning anger that took over the joy.

‘You idiot! You absolutely idiotic, stupid, prattish…’ Each word was accompanied by another hit, by Merlin’s shaking hands and tears that were already blinding his sight. Lancelot didn’t fight, not until he caught both of Merlin’s fists and dragged him back in.

Finally, Merlin could just slump. He didn’t have the energy to do anything but, let Lancelot hold up his weight.

‘I’ll go to the Physician, Sire, to get checked over.’ Lancelot’s words may have been aimed at Arthur, but his eyes didn’t stray from Merlin. A hand came to rest on the Warlock’s mid back, guiding him away from the others, and Merlin went willingly.

Finally, he wasn’t alone.

**

Lancelot didn’t protest Merlin checking him over. He waited patiently, let Merlin talk about every spell he knew, accepted different pokes and prods from Gaius and watched as the two bickered back and forth. He’d missed this, sitting in the Physician’s Quarters and listening to the latest Magical threat. The way Gaius would raise his eyebrow at Merlin’s theories, while the Warlock paced back and forth.

Merlin looked awful. His eyes were red-rimmed, body far thinner than Lancelot remembered. When he had been brought back, he’d thought it had something to do with Merlin. Now, seeing how frail the Warlock looked, he decided that some serious attention needed to be given to him.

‘… and Freya said it was for me?’ Merlin finished, the name making him wince. Lancelot ducked his head in sympathy, knowing the topic had always been one that made the Warlock touchy.

‘She said the Gods brought me back for you.’ A brief flush crossed Merlin’s cheeks, which Lancelot found amusing. Even after all this time, Merlin was easy to read.

‘The King will expect my report.’ Gaius cut in, moving towards the door. Lancelot used his absence to move closer to Merlin, settling by his side.

‘So, what has happened in my… leave?’ Surprisingly, it was Merlin who shuffled closer. Lancelot wondered what exactly happened in the time he’d been gone, what had made Merlin so… closed off. Tired, and uncaring that he burst into tears in front of the others. The same happy-go-lucky manservant, now slumping beside him.

Plus, Merlin had lit the fire by hand when they walked in. That was a new thing, Merlin had gotten over his fear of using Magic in front of him a while ago.

‘The usual. Magical attacks, Arthur being an idiot.’ There was no sarcasm in the worlds, no teasing tone that Lancelot adored.

‘And Morgana?’ There was a pause, Merlin’s head cocking to the side slightly.

‘We’ve made an alliance.’ That caught his attention, last he had checked, Morgana would settle with nothing less than the Crown of Camelot.

‘How?’ A shadow of secrets flashing over the Warlock’s face was another thing that was different, Merlin didn’t need to hide from him. They’d agreed upon that a long time ago, but then again, Lancelot had been dead a while.

‘We bonded over loss.’ Merlin mumbled, head ducking away. Morgause, the loss that Morgana had faced.

‘Me?’ Lancelot questioned, while the Warlock looked at his clasped hands.

‘You were gone for a year, Lance. I… it was hard.’ The Knight rose up, moved to the bowl of stew that had been warming. They had shared many a meal seated across from each other at this table, had constantly chattered and shared bread during it.

‘I thought you would tell Gwaine of your Magic.’ Lancelot admitted, never anticipating quite how much Merlin needed him.

How much he needed Merlin.

‘I… I thought about it.’ The stew was placed down, a bigger portion than he’d ever have tried to give Merlin before.

‘You thought he’d run.’

‘I can’t lose anyone else.’

Lancelot waited, for any signs of the old Merlin. There was something, hidden deep down that was the old Warlock that Lancelot adored, but it was covered in fear. Merlin needed him, that was clear, and Lancelot wasn’t going to leave him again.

‘You probably want to get going, to find Guinevere, or…’

‘If it’s alright, I’ll stay here for the night.’ Lancelot watched the disbelief turn to happiness, and knew he’d made the right decision.

The question, however, that was occupying his mind was could Arthur be trusted to know the secret yet? 


	3. Settle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin's scared, Lancelot's there, and Arthur's... confused

Merlin hadn't laughed like that in… well, Arthur couldn’t remember. The King watched as Merlin’s head tipped back, as he hiccupped back another giggle. By his side, Lancelot didn’t look away from the sight, his smile stretching wider. The two of them were sat side by side, chairs pushed as close as they could possibly be, and they hadn't parted for more than an inch since the dinner began. Nobody had mentioned it, not even Gwaine, which was probably because of Merlin’s happy mood.

Arthur was thoroughly confused.

‘So you were brought back to maintain… balance?’ Arthur questioned, having heard the same story three times during the night. Lancelot had been brought back to help Arthur, yet the King didn’t believe that. Not when Lancelot’s attention turned to Merlin right after speaking. Each time the story was told, of him climbing out of the Lake of Avalon and trying to get back to Camelot, it was said with a slight twinkle in Lancelot’s eye. Like there was something the two of them were keeping, and Arthur couldn’t have hoped to tear it from them.

Guinevere had been quiet for most of the meal. Arthur knew that there had been something between her and Lancelot, but clearly it was no longer a two-way feeling. In fact, Arthur was beginning to think that there was more than just a friendship between his manservant and Knight. Such a thing was unheard of, although whispers of two men sometimes did travel through the Taverns. 

‘Your room hasn’t been touched, so you’ll be able to stay there tonight.’ Lancelot’s smile fell, while Merlin’s crumpled. The look of hurt, of fear, was incredible. 

‘Thank you, but I agreed to be supervised by the Physician tonight.’ Arthur had received Gaius’s report, that there was no signs of injury or other effects.

Lancelot was staying because of Merlin.

‘I think, if it’s alright with you, Sire, I’d like to retire for the night.’ All he could do was nod, watch as Lancelot and Merlin moved from the room like they were attached at the hip.

‘So…’

‘Nobody told me they were buggering each other.’ Gwaine announced, far too loudly, and Guinevere sighed.

**

‘I’ll take the floor.’ Merlin offered, even if the thought of the cold floor wasn’t a welcome one. It would be worth it, just to be able to be next to Lancelot again. All these months waiting for the end of his Destiny, for the Gods to finally give him some sort of sign.

He wasn’t a religious man, hadn't been, until Lancelot appeared on the cobbles.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Merlin. It’s your bed.’ It wasn’t as carefree before, there was a tension that Merlin wasn’t sure how to combat. He moved across to the wardrobe, awkwardly shifted through his clothes while Lancelot tugged his shirt off. The Knight moved to the bed, kicking back the blanket and settling down like he was perfectly at home.

‘Guinevere and Arthur look happy.’

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t think…’ Merlin probably should have told him properly what was happening, or explained that the King was courting Gwen.

‘Merlin, you don’t need to apologise.’ Lancelot was clearly more comfortable, so Merlin followed his lead, settled by his side.

‘You haven’t used Magic since I got back.’ He added, while the Warlock kicked his feet up and reached for the blanket. There was barely any space, but strangely he didn’t mind. It felt nice, to be able to feel the body heat, or the steady thumping of Lancelot’s heart. Very much alive.

‘It’s not working as well, lately.’ An arm came to settle around him, the two of them inches apart. It had happened before, on the floor of the building where they whispered away long into the night.

‘Why?’ Lancelot’s gentle tone had Merlin feeling guilty, an ache returning as he remembered how his Magic had crept away. It hadn't felt part of him ever since it had failed to save Lancelot.

‘Ever since the Dorocha… It just isn’t working as well.’ He tried to hide away from the frown, knowing that there wasn’t much point in him being here if he couldn’t control his Magic. But, surprisingly, Lancelot didn’t say anything. Instead, he sighed, pulled the blanket up tighter over them.

‘Sleep, Merlin. We’ll work everything out in the morning.’

**

Lancelot woke to warmth. It was a strange feeling, not one he’d had since he was a child, sharing a bed with his brother. This was different, because the bed was far too small, which might have explained the fact that the two of them had gravitated together.

Merlin looked younger when he was sleeping. None of the stress or worry that he’d seen in such a short time, no destiny burdening him. The Warlock hadn't told Arthur about his Magic, nor had he told Gwaine, which was worrying. Clearly he still didn’t believe that Camelot was changing, that there was more faith than there had been.

As for the Magic… Lancelot knew Merlin’s guilt was one of the worst things to attack his judgement. The likelihood of Merlin’s distance with his Magic being related to the fact that Lancelot had stepped into the Veil, well, it wasn’t even a guess. It was a definite. The Warlock was punishing himself by locking out a part of him, but Lancelot would deal with that gradually.

The younger man snuffled, rolling over but taking Lancelot’s arm with him. From there, they stayed close, pressed from head to foot in a way that had him relaxing.

He’d been brought back by the Gods, to find a way to save Merlin. To help him handle his destiny, to share the burden. Lancelot figured this wasn’t exactly what they meant, he was never supposed to take it further than the friendship that they should have maintained.

‘Lance?’ Merlin’s body tensed up, and the fear alone was enough to melt the remaining worry away.

‘I’m still here. Go back to sleep.’ If the Warlock was confused about the situation they were in, then he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just settled back into the Knight’s hold.

In this new Camelot, it was Lancelot’s job to protect Merlin, and he intended on taking the job very seriously.

**

Morning came, and with it, Merlin’s chores. He managed to convince himself to get out of bed, to drag Lancelot up and to the bench for some breakfast. Neither of them spoke, although the Warlock didn’t miss the proud smile that came when he used Magic to light the fire. Once breakfast was finished, Lancelot dressed quickly, heading to the door before pausing.

‘I’ll be at training, do you need me?’ If Merlin said yes, the Knight wouldn’t go. But with Lancelot back in Camelot, this place was his home.

He had a destiny, to protect Arthur, while Lancelot was by his side.

‘I’ll meet you there.’ Merlin promised, watching the Knight give one last smile before slipping from the room.

Camelot may not be safe yet, with Morgana still on the outskirts, and a Saxon army that might be a problem, but Merlin would come to deal with it. Not even Agravaine, the man he hated with every inch of himself, was enough to dampen the bright mood that Lancelot’s return had brought.

This time, Merlin wasn’t alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now, this'll be the last chap, but I will be coming back!


End file.
